Captive!
by Anora-the-Dreamer
Summary: Veronica got kidnapped and as she slowly recalls the events preceding the incident her family and friends begin to panic.
1. Veronica

**Captive**

**Chappie one: Where am I?  
Disclaimer: **Don't own Veronica Mars, but I love watching it!

She woke up and very nearly instantly regretted it. She had the worst headache, and could hardly move. Veronica struggled into a sitting position and opened her eyes.

"Jackass," she muttered passionately, her features twisting into an elegant sneer. Where the hell was she? The room was dusty, ill-kept, and windowless. The floor and walls were concrete; it looked a lot more like a garage than her bedroom. Why was she here? Sure, she'd been kidnapped before, but at least they'd had the decency to leave her a cell phone.

She leaned over a puddle of oily water near her and clenched her jaw. She had a black eye and further analysis proved that her arms, legs, and shoulders were mottled black and purple. What had she ever done to whoever this was? There was also blood on her shirt, but she had no flesh wounds. Ironically, this made her very happy. Whoever had put her here, well, she hadn't gone down without a fight.

Her good mood was very short-lived. She tried to get up, only to fall over onto already bruised arms. Eyes finally adjusted to the dim light (an absolutely pathetic one light bulb lamp, well, she should consider herself lucky she had ANY light) she saw her legs bound together with a two-inch thick layer of duct tape, and arms bound behind her in a similar fashion.

How had she ended up like this? Let's see, she remembered very little of the previous day. She had gotten up, gone to school, halfway through first period she had been called to the office for Lord-knows-what, then blank. That was it.

How was she going to get out? If this was some very sick person's idea of a joke she should be out soon. But what if it wasn't? Suddenly Veronica felt like someone had dumped a bucket of ice water on her. What if they intended to never let her go? What if they intended to kill her?

'Calm down' she ordered herself 'it can always get worse. At least you still have your underwear.'

Keith Mars fixed the skinny black teenager with a glare that would have anyone who didn't know him out the door and up the nearest tree. "What do you mean by Veronica was called to the office during first period and never came back?"

So, what do you think? Please review, I would really appreciate it. Oh, and since this is one of four fics I've got going it might be a while before I update.


	2. Omens

**Captive!**

**Chapter Two: Omens**

**Disclaimer: **Do you REALLY think that I own Veronica Mars?

**To The Reviewers:**

**Cat: **Thank you! Sorry it took so long to update.

**Raven-Goddess-of-underworld12: **Thank you!

**PrincessMoi: **Thank you!

**Astacia: **Mucha gracias!

**Season4.5: **Thank you, I think this chapter is longer.

**Memet: **Thank you. Didn't know there was a Veronica Mars section.

Wallace looked grim, "Just what I said."

Keith turned pale, "I'll call the police. You can go home now."

Wallace nodded and walked out. He had no idea what to make of the whole mess. It could be that Veronica just got some urgent lead as to the whereabouts of her mother, or the Lilly Case. Then, it could be that she was in danger for her life. This was his first real taste of PI work, and he really disliked it. Plus now he had to eat lunch by himself.

Keith was reluctant to call the police thinking, though he had no way of knowing it, along the same lines as Wallace. Some people's daughters disappeared off the face of the Earth, his didn't. That much he knew. He looked down at the pencil he had been chewing, it was now covered with little half-moon marks. According to the clock on his desk it was 11. He should get some sleep, or try to.

He made his way to his room and by default the bed. He hadn't even bothered to brush his teeth. In light of recent events those types of things seemed trivial, even pointless. Keith lay down on the pillow, and then popped up muttering words similar to his daughter's. He felt the little knick on the back of his neck, nothing much. Slowly he turned to look at the pillow and his eyes widened. There was a knife on his pillow, but that wasn't even the start of it. There was also a Barbie. A blonde Barbie. With hair cut short. And a toothpick stuck in the shoulder.

Keith was incredibly surprised, and then the horror set in. He'd thought this man had forgotten him over ten years. On his pillow lay some very compelling evidence that proved otherwise.

Oddly enough he didn't feel guilty. Both Pis and policemen mad enemies, that couldn't be avoided. Perhaps he should have told Veronica, but she'd had a hard enough time, between Lilly, her mother, and the rape. Yes, he knew about the rape. Just because he wasn't sheriff didn't mean he couldn't get into police records. He almost understood why she wouldn't tell him. He was her over-reactive dad, and would've, did actually, react badly.

He brought himself back to the present. His daughter was missing, and there were some very clear threats to their little family's safety. He sighed, picked up the phone, and dialed 9-1-1.

Veronica was still busy thinking about the good parts of her predicament. She had counted the stones on the wall three times, and was officially out of things to do.

She really hadn't the slightest idea how long she'd been there. All she knew was that she was very hungry and thirsty, yet there was no food to satiate her hunger; no liquid to quench her thirst.

'I thought' she informed herself, 'that I was thinking about the good things.'

Then again, why not feel sorry for herself? She had no possible weapon or lock pick; it wouldn't have mattered if she did. There was no one to attack. And the lock was top-quality; a welding-iron wouldn't have helped. All there was was a pathetic little twig in the corner. She could have taken on a three-year-old with it. Maybe.

She half-crawled half-rolled over to it and felt the knot one-third of the way down. She gasped as a memory suddenly came to her.

_She bent over and picked up the twig, grasping it for dear life as if it could save her. Veronica was surrounded by tall grass, one of the few lots in Neptune that was not yet to be cornered in concrete. She heard a rustling from her left and suddenly lunged to the right and tried to duck. It was useless. All there was grass; no people; no trees; nothing. She couldn't run forever, likely fighting was the only way out. _

_'With what?' she inquired cynically._

_She couldn't answer herself. The rustling grew louder._

A/N- Well, there you go. Please review! Flames will provide entertainment for author!


	3. Run For Your Life

**Captive!  
Chapter Three: Run For Your Life**

**By RiverTam  
Disclaimer: **I don't own Veronica Mars, but I do love watching it!

A/N-This chapter is more rated M for violence, abuse and LOTS of cussing.

_Two Weeks Beforehand_

"Honey, I can explain. I swear I can explain," the blond was pretty, petite and on the floor trembling and sobbing. She was slowly scrambling towards the door, but her attacker, her husband in this case, was too fast and strong. She could barely move before he launched another attack.

"Bitch! After all I've done for you, this is the best you could you do! You're worthless!" the man, livid with rage, punctuated his point by slamming her into a wall. She whimpered pitifully, clutching her arm which stuck out at odd angles.

"I swear it wasn't what it looked like," she said. She was panting and her voice was barely a whisper. She started crying again, from the pain of her broken arm and the pain of his sudden betrayal. "It...It...he...was a friend...that...w-was...all." It cost her a lot to speak.

Her husband looked down at her, disgusted. No sympathy shone in his eyes, but her will was yet to bend or break. No, he had to make her suffer for what she had done to him, but this wasn't working. His rage had only doubled, not subsided; she was still looking him in the eyes.

"Liar," he hissed. "I told you you're worthless sluty whore of a liar. Did you hear me? You're worthless. Say it."

The wife looked him right in the eyes. She had to do this for herself, if not for herself then for the thing she cared most about which was currently up in a room with a pink comforter, ears pressed against the wall. The little girl was crying even harder than her mother.

She looked him right in the eye. Her look wasn't one begging for mercy; it was emotionless, defiant even. "No," she said, the edge of her vision turning blurry.

"What did you say, bitch?" the husband snarled, picking up a heavy statue and advancing menacingly towards his wife.

She almost balked, this was as mad as she had ever seen him. She almost said that she was worth nothing, almost broke at last. But when she thought of her child, who was beaten almost as often as her mother, she had to do this. Plenty of abused women made a run for it, but that was no way to live, constantly wondering if the bad husband, boyfriend, father, brother, even cousin was ever going to find them. This was it; her voice was now clear and loud, "No."

His face scrunched up in an emotion, a strong one. It was beyond anger, beyond fury even, it scared her witless. Without a word he stood over her and slammed the statue into her already-broken arm. She screeched desperately, who could blame her? It hurt like hell.

"Since you don't care about yourself anymore," he said nastily. 'You've got that right.' she thought, delirious thoughts flowing into her head. "I'll just have to go get something you do."

Time seemed to move in slow motion. He moved toward the stairs, statuette (one that they had gotten one their honeymoon, ironically) brandished like a club. His wife hardly heard him, just saw him moving in that direction and understood. Her eyes widened she got up and ran, though moments before she'd barely been able to move.

She took the stairs two steps at a time, dammit! He was already at the top. "Sarah!" she screamed for all she was worth. No matter what it took, if it was the last thing she did, he was not getting _his _hands on _her _daughter. "Call the police! NOW!"

He stared at her in shock as she flew past him and planted himself firmly in from of the door. "Get away from her," she hissed.

"Make me," he said, smirking.

Of the witnesses, none of them, not the mother, the father, or the little girl peeking through a crack through a pink door with a picture of Snow White on the front, could decide what had possessed her. All they knew was that one minute she was staring down someone who had scared her for more than a decade, and the next she was flying into him, knocking him into the wall, broken arm and painful bruises forgotten.

"Whore," he roared, he now had a few well-deserved bruises of his own. "You...d-dare." He started walking towards her, "After everything we've been through together..." Another step closer, she looked around frantically for an escape route. "You see this arm?" He held up an arm that was already turning black from the impact. He was within two feet of her. "This arm is nothing compared to what I'm going to do to you." His hand clamped around her neck.

It tightened and the woman, incredibly fatigued from this fight, twisted around, but instead of escaping caused herself more pain.

"Go to hell," he said, drawing his face close to hers, "Where you belong." He tossed her down the stairs with the ease and carelessness that he would throw a pair of dirty pants on the floor.

"Sarah! Run!" she screeched, then grew silent. She spasmed once, then her vision went black. She kept twitching for a full minute before she was finally still.


	4. A Plan And A Visitor

**Captive: Chapter Four  
A Plan And A Visitor  
By Rivertam  
**A/N- Well, sorry I took so long to update. Been busy.  
**Kiki:** Yeah, I don't like being confused.  
**C'est Magnifique**: Thank you for reviewing. No pairings. I'm not sure this could be less romantic.

**QueenCate**: Thanks.  
**Astacia**: Thanks for reviewing. Yep, Veronica isn't doing so great at the moment.  
**Season4.5**: Good to know I'm not the only one.  
**Spk:** Yes, I finally updated.  
**Cronkalini**: Mucha Gracias.

**A Crazy Girl Of Many Names**/shrugs/ beats shittiest piece of crap ever written. Thanks for reviewing.

Veronica was hunched over the floor; face pale, and looking even thinner than usual. Good lord, it hurt like hell. Her stomach wasn't there anymore. Instead there was some furry animal that, every once in a while, got pissed off for no reason and started clawing at her torso. She always hated furry things, with the exception of Backup.  
Her throat wasn't there anymore either, but that didn't matter. It only hurt when she talked and she sure wasn't talking anymore, not after days of screaming near the doorway when no one could hear her. It was a waste of time. Ditch that, in her current state escape was nearly impossible, she was practically a waste of life at the moment.

'Damn this, damn this,' seemed to be the only thought running through her head over and over and over. It was actually really annoying, like a repeating record, she just couldn't get it to stop. She was about ready to slam her head up against a wall to make it stop. The fact that she still couldn't move was a fairly small problem, one she was still working on fixing. When she wasn't busy starving to death.

_...starving to death..._

Gee, what a morbid way to die. She'd always thought she'd go with a bullet to the head or something. You know the kind of thing that might hurt real badly for a second, but only for a second. Then nothing could hurt you ever again.

_...nothing could hurt you..._

She really wasn't herself. She needed to stop thinking of death like some sort of paradise. She wasn't ready to go yet, if she ever decided she was then she'd have the guts to commit suicide. Plus, she so could not kick it until she knew who'd killed Lilly. That was the most important. It's pretty hard to get someone arrested when you're dead...

Well, it was good that that was finally decided. She wasn't going to die, not here anyways. Nope, definitely not here.

Creeaakk...What was that? Was someone here? Could she even scream?  
She opened her mouth, but no sound came out. Not one whisper. She rolled over, pretty frustrated. Looked like it was up to her to get herself out of here, which was not going to be easy.

How long had she been here, anyway? A day? A week? A year? Did it matter?

Ow, suddenly the place wasn't dark anymore. Light, light, light. That's all she could see. Not one other thing. It hurt eyes that had been in the dark for so long, too.

There was something cold against her head. She tried to reach up to feel what it was, but instead someone kicked her in the stomach and grunted, "Don't touch that."

She nodded dumbly, than whimpered pathetically and tried to get as far away from here as she possible could. A thought had just hit her. In all likelihood, this was it. It was either death or freedom. She really didn't think freedom would hold a gun up to her head either. So much for not dying here.

The most wonderful smell in the world filled the room. Maybe this guy wasn't going to kill her. She sat up and looked around for the source just as the man chucked a white paper bag at her head and sat a paper cup on the ground.

He walked out and shut the door. Gone as quickly as he had come.

She took only one second to tear open the bag and shove the greasy and undercooked contents into her mouth. She probably wouldn't have noticed if they were infested with maggots.

This was more than food, much, much more. What that man had just given her was something precious beyond all reckoning...life.

The food and soda made her feel much better. She sat up and her eyes would actually focus. It was then that her eyes landed on one certain feature of the ceiling, and she became conscious of the fact that he had given her yet another precious gift. A plan. And a damn good one, if she was to say so herself.

"Hello? Neptune police department?" Keith clutched the phone, a pained look on his face.

"Yes. Please state your emergency." The voice sounded bored. Really bored.

"I need to report a missing person."

The voice was suddenly laced with sympathy. "Very well. Name."

"Veronica Mars."

"Let me look that up and che-"

Another voice one he, unfortunately, recognized. "Keith Mars?" asked the Sheriff, "Asking the Neptune police for help? When did this happen?"

He grit his teeth. His pride wasn't worth this. "My daughter is missing."

"Oh," came the smug and taunting reply. "You sure she didn't take off after one of her mystery killers?" At this time the Sheriff took a second to chortle at his own crappy joke.

"Yes." 'Damn sheriffs who think they know everything...' he though darkly.

A loud sigh came over the phone. "Fine. I'll file the report."

/Click/ That conversation was over.

Now all he could do is wait...and hope.


	5. Thicker

Yeah, it's been a while. I've been out of town, at stupid day camps and starting high school. Please R&R.

**Captive: Chapter Five Thicker **

This was exactly like one of those good news/ bad news jokes. Exactly.  
The good news was she was no longer starving, merely very unhappy.

The bad news, well, where to begin. She was still stuck in this damn garage which had yet to become drier and warmer in the days/weeks she'd been here. Her escape plan, was...it wasn't going to be easy. And this place was a lot less interesting now that she was no longer at death's door. Just because she wasn't starving didn't mean she wasn't hungry. The assholes.

Veronica grinned savagely, her teeh clenched as she felt the familiar fire of anger pound through her. That was much better. It was a lot easier to be angry than to be scared. Fear was simply not going to work. Fear was going to make her a body floating in a river, hair fanned out around her head, the surrounding water stained a rusty red. She gasped as the image came to her, and fought it off with a practiced ease. Anger was going to get her out of here, a little worse for the wear, but alive and in one peice. All she had to do was wait. Sooner or later (though she was hoping like hell for sooner) these bastards were going down.

(xl(xl(xl(xl(xl(xl(xl(xl(xl(xl(xl(xl(xl(xl(xl(xl(xl(xl(xl(xl(xl(xl(xl(xl(xl(xl(xl(xl(xl(xl(xl(xl(xl(xl(xl(xl(xl(xl(xl(xl(xl(xl(xl(xl(xl(xl(xl(xl(xl(xl(xl(xl(xl(xl(xl

The phone rang, though he found the phone loud an obnoxious and reached out to pick it up, ready to tell off whatever poor soul was on the other end. He just wanted to take the phone and grind it into the ground and then take the peices and...  
No. Violence was _bad_.

/BRING/BRING/ Oh, yeah. Fine. Idiots. He would humor them.

"Keith Mars?" It was him, but he didn't sound like the smug son of a bitch he was used to.

"Yes?" What he really wanted to do was reach through thephone and strangle him, like they always did in those old cartoons.

"Two things. You know Richard Johnson?"

"200 pounds, blond, aggravated assault." He recited in a monotone. This guy had given him three weeks of chase and was a bit of a crazy. the only reason he was still listening, well, knives and mutilated barbies were just his style.

"Well, he was pulling some haunted house crap with police officers." No shit, Sherlock. "He's on bail for 70,000."

"Did he not turn up for his court date?"  
"No, no one would post bail.:  
Sigh. If he was in jail, then where was his daughter? "What's number two?"

"We found a body down in one of the abandoned lots. Some found it."

Keith's world went cold. No, this was not happening. No, god, no. Why would he tell him this? He racked his brains for an answer that did not mean tragedy for him. . He couldn't find one. Some how he knew exactly what the sheriff was going to say before it was out of his mouth.  
"It's a few days old, it's pretty rotten but... It's a blond girl."

The phone slid out of his hands and hit the floor with a clatter. The last thing he realized before his whole world went numb was that the clattering had sounded like bones. How ironic.

(xl(xl(xl(xl(xl(xl(xl(xl(xl(xl(xl(xl(xl(xl(xl(xl(xl(xl(xl(xl(xl(xl(xl(xl(xl(xl(xl(xl(xl(xl(xl(xl(xl(xl(xl(xl(xl(xl(xl(xl(xl(xl(xl(xl(xl(xl(xl(xl(xl(xl(xl(xl(xl(xl(xl

"She saw it."

"No, she didn't. I mean, how can you tell?"

"She picked up a damn ribbon off of it. She was practically standing on it. How could she not have seen it?"

"If she saw it she would've screamed."

"Maybe she wouldn't have screamed. It's just a body, a human that is no longer living. Maybe she thought it was some drunkard that was sleeping. My girl didn't scream when she came to the coroner's office with me."

"Your girl is six. What the hell was she doing in a coroner's office?"

"Nevermind that. She saw it. We need to take care of her."

A loud grunt of protest was heard. "I ain't killing no one."

"Didn't say that."

"How else are you going to take care of her? Dammit, Mike, if we had just moved it farther back like I said or dumped in the ocean."

"Will you just shut up? We ain't gonna kill no one. Won't have to hurt her I don't think."

"Fine."

"Okay then. Let's get started."

(xl(xl(xl(xl(xl(xl(xl(xl(xl(xl(xl(xl(xl(xl(xl(xl(xl(xl(xl(xl(xl(xl(xl(xl(xl(xl(xl(xl(xl(xl(xl(xl(xl(xl(xl(xl(xl(xl(xl(xl(xl(xl(xl(xl(xl(xl(xl(xl(xl(xl(xl(xl(xl(xl(xl(xl

Veronica sat there idely, fiddling her thumbs as another flash of memory came to her. It had happened so often within the past few days, it had already happened twice in the hour since she'd imagined her own dead body. they very seldom made sense, just flashes of things. This one, however was much clearer, concise and longer too.

_"I have to go home now."_

_"Of course you do, honey, do you need a ride?"_

_"No," she said stiffly. "I have a car."_

_So she did. She stumbled out of the office, clinging to the banister with knuckles that were growing steadily whiter. She moved stiffly towards her car, threw open the door and collapsed on the seat gracelessly. She fumbled with a keys. starting to drive without even realizing it.  
Back up, move out, turn signal, turn signal again, don't hit the kid, it's not nice.  
That was when something jolted her very rudely out of her alarmed revery. Had she been stupider she would have a taken it as the car backfiring, but no, it was becoming only more and more apparent, as it happened three times in quick succession.  
Someone had blew out her tires. With a gun. She heard the foot steps, heavy boots on concrete as they came towards her, and Veronica did the only thing that made sense. She whirled around with her own pistol and let off three shots of her own._

(xl(xl(xl(xl(xl(xl(xl(xl(xl(xl(xl(xl(xl(xl(xl(xl(xl(xl(xl(xl(xl(xl(xl(xl(xl(xl(xl(xl(xl(xl(xl(xl(xl(xl(xl(xl(xl(xl(xl(xl(xl(xl(xl(xl(xl(xl(xl(xl(xl(xl(xl(xl(xl(xl(xl(xl

"We're just gonna keep her there?"

"For now, yes."

The man let out a sigh of pure relief. "Glad that's over. All the loose ends, isn't it?"

"No."

"No?"

"There's one more witness. We're going to have to take care of her, too."

Hope the long chappie makes up for the wait. I'll get better about updates when I'm not so busy, I swear. Sorry about any spelling errors, this stupid program has no spell check.


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